


Little Dean

by Cassiebobassie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Astroglide gets it, Bottom Dean, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, De-Aged Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Destiel is canon, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hunter Dean Winchester, Hunter Sam Winchester, I'm not putting Cas on a pyre!, Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Fic, Little Dean can’t hold in how many feelings Big Dean has, Lube, M/M, No Underage Sex, Pining Dean, Protective Castiel, Shower Sex, Stop Hurting Cas 2k17, Witches, one of the fluffiest things I've written, snuggly dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-01-08 08:35:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12250809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassiebobassie/pseuds/Cassiebobassie
Summary: Sam is so worried he can barely breathe. Cas has never answered one of his prayers quickly before, but Sam's hoping today is the day because he can't handle Dean. Not after the witch’s spell hit him an hour ago. Dean's actually been crying. Not strong, silent, man tears, but all out bawling. His big brother is now his little brother, and Sam has no idea what to do.Then Dean’s angel appears. And suddenly Dean’s happy. And Little Dean is doing all the things that big, grown-up Dean can’t do: snuggle, play games, and say I love you.Will Dean and Cas finally be canon?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the last story I wrote before my accident. As a matter of fact, I published mere moments before disaster struck. I spent the morning at a local cafe typing away about Dean and Cas, sipping coffee, and being downright pleased by life. An hour later I would be in the emergency room with fractured ribs, a brain injury, and a problem with my left knee that is still a bit of a mystery. The car accident is behind me, but this story has a special place in my heart. Whenever I get kudos on this story, it feels good to know that maybe my story made somebody happy for a little time. ❤️

Sam is so worried he can barely breathe. Cas has never answered one of his prayers quickly before, but he's hoping today is the day it happens because he can't imagine handling Dean. Not after the witch’s spell hit him an hour ago. He can't take care of his brother and hunt a witch, and his brother’s a mess.

  
Dean's actually been crying. Not strong, silent man tears, but all out bawling. That stopped about 30 minutes ago, and now all Sam can hear behind the locked bathroom door is the occasional hiccup or sniffle. He prays again, hoping Cas can hear him, hoping that he's close enough to their hotel to be of some help. Sam's tried calling but he keeps getting voicemail. Team Free Will has faced bigger challenges before, but seeing his big brother vulnerable like this… it scares him.

  
“Dean, come on, man. We can fix this. Just come out of there.”

  
Dean doesn't make a sound. No yelling. No crying. No kicking the door. Earlier, when Sam tried to get Dean to unlock the door, he just screamed, “Sammy, leave me the heck alone, you jerk face!” Silence might be an improvement, but it could also be a sign things have gone from bad to worse.

  
“Dean, if you don't want to come out, that's fine. Just let me know. Are you alright? Are you hurting?”

  
Still nothing.

"Dean?"

Sam’s fear leaps into full blown panic.

What if the witch’s spell wasn't a one-and-done?

If she managed _that_ amount of… of change… in the first blast of the spell, what if the magic was continual? What if the magic wasn't finished? What if the curse progressed until the spell was broken? What was happening to Dean now if the spell was still at work? What if Dean didn't answer because he _couldn't_ anymore? Oh God…

  
“Dean!” Sam yells pulling on the handle and launching his shoulder into the door, “Dean, if you can understand me—if you can—open the door! Please!”

Running to his bag, he reaches for his lock pick, determined to open the bathroom door and get to his brother. Digging through his duffle, Sam's mind races, images of infant Dean or a Dean vanished in time haunt him. He's so panicked about losing his brother forever from a routine hunt gone wrong that he doesn't hear the knocking, not at first. When he hears, he looks toward the bathroom, But it isn’t coming from Dean.

More banging on the exterior door has Sam tossing his bag aside and palming his gun. There's only one person he's expecting, and whatever is on the other side of the door sounds angry or desperate. In other words, it's not likely to be Castiel. Sam walks quietly from the bed and flicks the room's lock open with a soft touch. He takes a breath and swings the door open to reveal Cas. 

  
He lowers his gun with a relieved sigh, “Cas, man, I am _so_ happy to see you.”

  
“What happened Sam? I came as soon as I heard Dean’s call.”

  
“Dean’s call?”

  
“Yes. It's very loud. Very distressed. He's been crying out to me for an hour. Where is he?”

  
“In the bathroom. He won't come out no matter how much I ask him to. I'm about to pick the lock." Sam walks over and kneels in front of the bathroom door. "I shouldn't have waited until now. He's just—He's not himself. I thought he needed time to, I don't know, cool off.” He shakes his head. “He's been quiet for a while now.”

  
“Not in his prayers. He's asking for me still.” Cas says, worried, hovering inches behind Sam.

Seconds later the door lock clicks open. When Sam hesitates, Cas reaches around him to open the door, clearly eager to see Dean.

  
And there he is. 5 or 6-year old Dean Winchester.

Sam can't tell his age exactly; he hasn't been around enough kids to be sure. But that is what Dean looked like when he was young, but this boy can't be _that_ Dean. Sam has no memories of Dean at this age, but they never owned pajamas like this. Sam recalls wearing his dad’s old t-shirts to bed for a long time. There's no way John bought Dean a pair of Sesame Street pj's. So this isn't a time reversal spell. Ernie’s face stares out at Sam; Dean keeps his eyes down.

  
“Dean, come here,” Cas says with quiet authority. Dean walks straight up to him, raising his arms. Cas lifts him up and places Dean on his hip. He heads over toward one of the beds and sits on the end. Dean settles in his lap, snuggling in for comfort although he's still sniffling.

  
“He knows you?” Sam asks, confused.

  
“Yes, Sam. This is still Dean.”

  
“Cas, Dean doesn't cry. He doesn't sit in your lap. This is not mini-Dean,” he nearly yells, losing his temper.

  
Dean squirms in Cas’s lap and tries to move away.

  
Cas holds him tight and glares at Sam. “Dean, calm down. Sam is worried about you. He's frustrated. Everything is going to be fine. It's ok to sit where you want, _isn't_ it Sam?”

  
“Yes, Cas,” Sam manages to say without heat. Cas is right. Sam's worried and upset, but that won't help Dean.

"Do you want to sit here, Dean?" Cas asks.

Dean nods. Whatever else is going on, it's clear that Dean is scared, too, and being with Cas is helping.

  
“Do either of you want to tell me what happened?”

"We were hunting a witch. She hit him with something, some curse."

Dean nods and says, “I hate witches.” Dean’s breath hitches and he almost cries again.

  
Cas nods and pats his back. “So it was a curse?” he asks looking at Sam.

  
“Yeah,” Sam answers, pacing. “We came because we'd heard reports that people in town were disappearing. There were also weird stories of elderly people being dropped off at neighboring hospitals. No identification. No memory of who they were. Of course, police weren't connecting the two cases, but Dean and I thought they were probably one and the same. It's all happening in less than a hundred mile radius. Not likely two bad guys in the same place.”

  
“I see,” Cas said. “You're probably right. That's very good thinking,” he added, smiling down at Dean.

  
Dean grinned back, blushing, finally dry-eyed.

  
“So you think this is an age reversal spell?”

  
“I'm not certain, Sam, but I don't think so,” Cas said tilting his head “Dean's thoughts, his prayers… they're not _young_ exactly.” He quieted again. Sam wondered if he was trying to read Dean's mind. “You say that people were disappearing?” Cas asks. “Can you describe them?”

  
“Sure, uhhh… men and women,” Sam answered reaching for his notes, “All in their early twenties. Different races. Different social classes. Different cities. Different interests. Some in dire straits. Others doing well. It's kind of a mixed bag.” Sam laughed. “One of them was actually a beauty queen.”

  
“Were they all attractive?”

  
“Umm…” he mumbles glancing through their online photos, “Yeah, I guess so.” He leaned forward. “Now that you mention it, a couple of them were kind of known for it. The beauty queen. One of them was a model for Seventeen a few years ago. A male cheerleader. A newscaster.”

  
“The witch might have been taking their youth and beauty,” Cas said distractedly.

  
When Sam looked over he saw Dean and Cas playing some kind of keep-away game, grabbing at each other's hands. Sam shook his head. He _really_ didn't want this day to get any weirder.

  
“So you're talking like Snow White stuff? A witch jealous of beautiful people?”

  
“The witch in Snow White killed people, Sammy,” Dean chimed in. He crossed his arms with a squint in Sam's direction, angry that he seemed to be missing the point.

  
“Exactly, Dean,” Cas said throwing another warm smile at Sam’s big—no little—brother. “This witch isn't jealous. She's ambitious. Resourceful. She wants to be beautiful, so she seeks out her victims and takes their youth and beauty as her own.”

  
“But she was ugly, Cas,” Dean offered.

  
“Even though you were attacked, you remember her appearance, Dean? That's wonderful.”

  
Dean smiles at the compliment and puffs out his chest. “Yeah, she was real ugly. Let me tell ya, buddy."

  
Cas laughed, and Sam's head started throbbing. Why was this little boy saying his big brother's lines?

"She's not winning any beauty contests. Total dog. We’re talking like negative numbers here, right, Sammy?”

  
“Why does he sound like Dean?”

  
“Because he _is_ Dean.”

  
“I get that, Cas.” Sam rubbed his temple.

“But one minute he’s Dean in a kid suit and the next he's an actual kid. I'm getting whiplash here.”

  
“I think rather than an age reversal, Dean was hit with an immortality spell or perhaps even the makings of several.”

  
“Immortality spell?”

"It seems like he was hit with the spell the witch designed for herself, but the proportions are all wrong. A spell for an ancient being hit Dean. That would explain why he remains himself but appears much younger.”

  
“Why was he crying earlier? Why is he…” Sam gestured at Cas’s lap where Dean happily remained.

Dean was pulling at his Ernie shirt with a preoccupied smile on his face, as though he cared little for the big people talk and was bored talking about a witch.

  
“Some witches also use this spell to stave off the mental deterioration of advanced age. Perhaps Dean is experiencing both his adult thoughts and the mental processes of a child."

"So he is a child or he isn't one?"

"It's not a deaging spell exactly. I'm not entirely sure what the effects are Sam. What are our plans for catching the witch?”

  
Dean's head popped up, “Sam, you're _not_ going after her alone.”

  
Of course, they start to argue about who should pursue the witch. This time the argument includes actual pouting on Dean's part. Thankfully, after a few stern words from Castiel, Dean allows Sam to begin research. But the next days are no picnic—at least for Sam.

For Dean they seem to be pretty near perfect, especially that one day when Cas takes him on an actual picnic. Cas manages to give Dean whatever he wants, even when what he wants is a weird mix of adult interests and childlike impulses. Dean still wants to tell Sammy what to do and watch Dr. Sexy and drink beer, though Cas only lets him have one a night and even then he makes Dean drink it with a meal. But Dean also avoids curse words and says please and thank you and excuse me. Dean also snuggles with Cas. Frankly, Sam’s a little creeped out.

Sure, Sam's noticed the profound bond these two have. You'd have to blind not to notice. But Dean's never admitted to being in love with the guy, and it's not like he's caught them cuddling before. He's never walked into the bunker and found them curled up together on the couch. He's not sure if Dean needs comfort or if Dean just wants Cas, and he's not sure how to handle it. But Cas seems to be all Dean needs to stay happy right now, and the angel always knows what Dean wants. It's not normal for a kid to want a bedtime story _and_ the latest copy of Busty Asian beauties. Sam assumed Dean was joking when he asked for the skin mag, but his brother was  _thrilled_  when Cas told him a bedtime story with a happy ending and promised to have the magazine for Dean by breakfast. When he woke up, Dean hadn't opened the magazine, he seemed content to ignore it, but he kept looking at Cas like the angel hung the freakin' moon. By the end of week one, Sam decides this witch curse is the freakiest hunt the Winchesters have ever worked. And they've hunted shifters and Satan himself.

  
But Cas insists Dean is unchanged. " _It's clearly Dean's soul, Sam"_ he has said more than once, whenever Sam gives this strange young man-child a look. But Sam can't help but wonder… because _this_ Dean tells Cas he loves him.

  
That first night, when Cas brought back hamburgers for dinner, Dean managed to calm down enough to stop crying and eat. He climbed back into Cas’s lap, grabbed a burger, and leaned up to whisper something in the angel’s ear.

Sam only guessed what had been said when Cas smiled softly at Dean and replied, “I love you, too, Dean,” like it was obvious, like it was normal, as though they'd been saying it to each other for years. And over the last few days, it's gotten worse—better—Sam’s not sure what to call it. Because now Dean says _I love you, Cas_  out loud... several times a day.

  
When a break in the case finally comes, thank Chuck for the powers of research, Sam is relieved to put the motel in his rear view mirror. If he has to hear Dean giggling maniacally while singing Cassiebobassiebananafanafofassie one more time he's going to lose his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Three hours later and covered in blood and black witch goo, Sam returns to the motel.

  
He pulls in next to Cas’s Continental, happy that Cas is still here. Sam called an hour ago to make sure that the witch’s death broke the curse. It's a relief to see that Cas didn't head out immediately after. Dean clearly misses the guy when he's not around, and though they’ve been working a few cases together the past six months, maybe they can take some time for themselves. Clean up, go out, grab a couple beers. They've definitely earned it. Besides, Sam can't wait to spend the first couple rounds teasing Dean about sitting in Cas’s lap.

  
Sam pushes open the door to the room, eager to see his brother back to normal. But Dean's not there and neither is Cas. It looks like a hell of a brawl went down inside. There's a broken lamp, a broken chair. One of the mattresses has fallen off the frame. Cas’s trench coat is on the floor. Sam hears a broken moan in the bathroom and runs to the door. It's locked, but he learned his lesson last time. He steps back and kicks the door down.

  
“Dammit, Sam!” Dean yells, his voice thick and angry and no longer a child’s.

  
“Dean!” Sam screams, turning around. “Oh my God.”

  
Sam squeezes his eyes tight shut and fumbles out of the bathroom, trying to avoid seeing anymore of … of what he’d just seen. Skin. Wet skin and lots of it.

Sam needs to sit down. He collapses on to the bed that is untouched, sheets still tucked in. Dean storms out of the bathroom, securing a towel around his waist.

“You know, a locked bathroom door is usually a sign to stay the fuck out.”

  
Dean is pissed and embarrassed, his skin flushed red from his temples to his shoulders. There are pink and purple bruises on his neck and chest. Is that a bite mark on his shoulders? Sam closes his eyes again, but not before he sees Cas strolling out of the bathroom without a stitch on.

  
“Cas, put a towel on at least, man, damn. I think we scarred my brother enough for one day.”

  
“I'm sorry, Dean. I'll leave you two alone. Would you like me to go pick up dinner? I could hear your stomach rumbling when we were kissing in the shower.”

  
“Jeez,” Dean laughs and shakes his head. “Never change, Cas.”

  
Cas returns to the bathroom, and in less than a minute he reemerges fully dressed, boots on, buttoned up, flattening his tie. Pulling out his keys, his eyes remain on Dean as he moves to the door. “I love you, Dean,” he says.

  
“Love you, too, Cas,” Dean replies without the slightest hesitation.

  
“I'll return shortly,” Cas says, twisting the door open. “Sam, be kind to your brother.”

  
“We’ll be fine, Cas.” Dean says, “Order me a double of whatever you pick up. I've worked up an appetite, buddy.” Dean adds with a a wiggle of his eyebrows.

  
Sam groans.

  
“So you upset cuz you need eye bleach or cuz me and Cas are a thing now?”

  
“What kind of thing, Dean?”

  
“What's that supposed to mean?”

  
“I'm sorry, Dean. It's just, the last few days, you've been weird. Some kind of man-child. And I come back, expecting you to be back to normal, and you're… what even _was_ that?”

  
“It was beautiful man-on-man action. What the fuck do you think it was?” Dean bites out.

  
“Don't get defensive, Dean,” Sam scrubs his hands through his hair. “Just, are you sure this is you?”

  
“Yeah, Sammy, this is me.” Dean's eyes drop. “From now on, it's probably gonna me and Cas though. You gonna be alright with that?”

  
“So you guys are, what, boyfriends?”

  
Dean shrugs. “I need a beer.”

  
“Dean, can you help me understand what happened?”

  
A beer cap clinks on the worn kitchenette counter, but Dean remains silent.

  
“A few hours ago, you were a child, Dean. A week ago, before this curse, you had a…a profound bond with Cas, but it wasn't sexual. How can you be sure what you're feeling is really you? What _are_ you feeling, Dean?”

  
“I might have a boyfriend, Sam, but I'm not a chick,” Dean lifts his bottle to his lips with a snide smirk. “Not gonna sit here, braid your hair, and talk about my feelings.”

  
“You didn't have a problem telling Cas you loved him this past week. Can't you talk about it now?” Sam asks, adding, “Little Dean seemed happy loving Cas.”

“Little Dean is very happy with Cas,” Dean says with a wink and a suggestive glance down toward his towel-wrapped middle.

  
Sam stays quiet, hoping his brother will stop deflecting.

  
“It's not hard telling him I love him now. I have for a long time.”

  
“I know,” Sam replies, eyes locked on Dean’s, calm, trying to let Dean know he’s supportive...if this is something Dean really wants.

  
Dean raises a brow at that, but keeps going. “When I was cursed the only thing—the only _person_ I wanted was Cas.” Dean shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders, “A guy needs pants on for conversations like this.” He puts down his beer and looks for his duffle in the chaos that surrounds his bed.

"What happened in here, Dean? It looks like a fight broke out."

Dean laughs. "I guess we both got excited when the spell broke. We'd been telling each other _I love you_ for days. The spell broke, and it was the first words I said to him. When I admitted what I meant when I said it." Dean shrugs. He grabs a pair of jeans and turns away from Sam, pulling on the denim under the towel. “Little Dean—young Dean—whatever, he could say it. You know? And if Cas freaked out, didn't say it back, well…”

  
“You could pretend it away. Act like nothing happened?"

"Yeah."

"You really thought Cas didn't love you back?”

  
“I know he loves me, Sam, but, you know what I mean right?” Dean mumbled his voice quiet.

  
“You worried he didn't love you the same way?”

  
Whatever Dean said in response was so quiet Sam couldn't hear.

  
“Dean, does it help to know that Cas was happy telling you he loved you back?”

  
“He loves me back, he told me that before. But, today, when I said it, he didn't just say it back. He kissed me. After the spell, we…” Dean finished putting on his jeans and turned around. “I couldn't be sure. Not before.”

”Because he was a guy?”

”Because he’s an angel. Because he’s Cas,” Dean said with another shrug, picking up his beer, and taking a long drink from his bottle. He rubs the back of his neck. “Cas, he's different from anyone I’ve ever known. And, I guess...” Dean paused and scratched at the label on his beer, unable to make eye contact, “I’ve never really been in love before. Not for real. I’ve liked people. Wanted ‘em. Wanted some of them to stick around. But I can’t say I ever really loved anybody like this before. The feelings were big, Sammy, I couldn’t understand them for a long time.”

Dean finally looked up at Sam. “For years, I thought that, since I loved him as much as I loved you, I thought I saw him as a brother. But there was a difference, and I couldn’t see what it was. Maybe didn’t wannna see it.”

  
“So you're happy you were little Dean?” Sam asked. 

  
“I'm happy we played this out. Guess we'll make it up as we go. Like we do everything. Guess we got a little carried away in here though.” Dean shrugged with a bitter smirk.

  
“You don’t think it's gonna end like Cas’s bedtime story? Happily ever after?”

Dean plopped down on the bed beside Sam. ”Don’t things usually go sideways for Team Free Will?”

”Dean, a tragic ending for hunters isn't required or garuanteed. It’s ok to enjoy being happy.”

  
“Yeah, at least happy until the next apocalypse.”

A buzz sounded and Sam glanced at the bedside table. “It’s your phone. Want me to check the text?” When Dean nodded, Sam hopped up and read the message with a wide grin. 

“It’s Cas, he says he’s on his way back with burgers and pie. He also wrote, _I told you, Dean, good things do happen. We will save the world and our family one day at a time, as you’ve taught me to do_.”

Sam watched Dean shake his head and quietly keep his eyes down, but he saw the corners of his brother’s mouth lift and his shoulders lowered, his whole body grew more relaxed.

The phone vibrated in Sam’s hands again and he laughed, “It’s Cas again. He wrote, and I quote ‘But we’re taking tonight off. I got a room next door to Sam so we can protect him from additional scarring while we explore this product that claims to help you _slip into pleasure_ ’ He bought Lube, Dean.”

Dean laughed loud and carefree. ”An angel that quotes Astroglide boxes. Dude’s got a special kinda charm. You gotta admit.” His laugh faded and he added with a small smile, “I hope he never changes. I hope he stays alive.”

”Little Dean was scared of being hurt. He wanted to be protected, but you can’t seem to let go of the idea that you need to protect Cas.”

”Couldn’t live without him.” Dean said with no further explanation, standing to pull a shirt over his head. After he was dressed, Dean started to put the room back together. He was clearly done talking, but it was enough. Sam knew Dean was saying how much Cas mattered, how broken he’d be without him.

”We’ve stormed heaven and hell, we could get him back no matter what happens.”

”You bet your ass we will. I can’t stand over a pyre for the guy. Not now,” Dean said, rubbing his hand through his hair distractedly.

“And you won’t have to. Now go pack up your stuff. It’s almost romantic dinner time for you two.”

”Yeah, yeah. All right,” Dean muttered, getting up from the bed and tossing his beer in the trash unfinished. “Hey, Sammy, thanks. You aren’t too bad as a big brother.”

”Thanks, Dean. I learned from the best,” Sam said, happy that for _now_ Dean was getting as much back from the universe as he deserved. Dean deserved a happy ending, and Sam would do whatever he needed to make sure he got one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am curious how this little relationship develops over time. I wonder if I should do a time-stamp. Any thoughts?


End file.
